


Genesis

by dawnperhaps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnperhaps/pseuds/dawnperhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hates himself for letting it get this far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genesis

Sam hates himself for letting it get this far.  He always hates himself when he realizes just how invested he is in a relationship, how much it’s probably fogging his better judgment.  It’s the same messed up cycle of addiction every time.  He had ached for Ruby’s blood and her belief that he could be good.  He’d made himself crazy with the desperate search to find a cure for Madison’s lycanthropy.  He was even addicted to Jessica’s normalness, in a way.  Dean always see it before he does, and it kills Sam to watch Dean frown at him and just _know_ , know exactly who and what he’s handing his heart over to, even before Sam tells him and tries to explain.  Sam doesn’t want to explain anymore.  Sam doesn’t want to have a problem he should have to explain.

Which is why he hates himself for letting it get this far.  He knows Dean will be furious with him, knows he’s falling into his cycle again, knows he has no right to be doing what he’s doing, but when Gabriel moans and writhes under him, twisting the sheets in his hands and staring up at Sam with those smoldering eyes, Sam doesn’t care about any of that.  He just wants to give and give until his angel feels as beautiful as Sam knows he is, like Gabriel never left Heaven and never deserted anyone.  The Archangel deserves to be worshipped again, and all Sam wants in those moments is to be the one to do it.  He can trick himself into thinking Gabriel needs him just as much as he needs Gabriel.  He can bury his face in Gabriel’s neck as they rock together and breathe in sweetness and Grace.  He feels like nothing is wrong, like Gabriel could really mean those words he’s murmuring into Sam’s ear, like he might be entitled to a little pleasure now and then.

It isn’t until the afterglow that Sam’s guilt always catches up to him, when Gabriel is tucked into his side and Sam can’t distract himself with how perfect the angel feels around him or how sweet his lips taste.  Sam’s mind is just a complete, convoluted collection of thoughts and concerns, some rational and some not so rational.  Most prominent, however, glowing like a goddamn beacon in his mind, is the fact that this is Gabriel the Archangel that spent half the night underneath him, the same glorious figure that he read about once in the Bible.  And who is Sam?  The boy with the demon blood, the one who broke Lucifer out of his cage and set the apocalypse in motion, the one who got Gabriel killed that first time, only to defile him when he was mercifully brought back to life.  Sam doesn’t deserve to be making love to a holy, celestial being, not after everything he’s done, all the despicable evils he unleashed against humanity.  He is going to ruin an Archangel of the Lord.  He is going to fuck it up, just like he’s fucks up everything.

“You don’t fuck up _everything_ ,” Gabriel suddenly says, rolling his eyes and propping himself up on his elbow.  Sam lets his arm fall away from the angel’s shoulders, mouth dropping open in shock.

“Take, for instance, the sex we just had,” Gabriel continues, gesturing to bed and the rumpled sheets pooled around their waists.  “There was lots of fucking, but not a lot of fucking up.  It was more horizontal, actually.”

“Stop reading my mind,” Sam groans, caught between feeling annoyed that Gabriel took the liberty and feeling horrified that he heard everything he was thinking.

“Stop shouting your thoughts at me, then,” the Archangel counters.  “You’re thinking loud enough to have your own angel radio station.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbles.  “I’ll… turn it off.”

“You and I both know that you, Sam Winchester, are physically incapable of turning your feelings off,” Gabriel says.  Sam snorts, but his face is miserable and Gabriel’s bemused expression softens.  “There are a lot of things you should be afraid of, kiddo.  But I’m not one of them.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Gabriel,” Sam promises.

“Then what?  You can’t ‘defile’ me, Sammy.  I did plenty of defiling myself when I ran away from Heaven to have sex with half a dozen pagan gods.  I can’t get much more defiled.”

Sam doesn’t want to tell him that he wants to do more than just _not defile_ the angel further, but he manages to catch the thought before it becomes concrete enough to be heard.

“Stop hating yourself,” Gabriel orders.  “It’s totally unproductive.  And it’s ruining my post-coital glow.  We’re naked around each other a good fifty percent of the time, so you should at least be able to feel comfortable with me.”

“Wow, do I have to pay by the hour for this?” Sam quips, offering him a halfhearted smile.

“For the counseling services or the fantastic sex?”

Sam chuckles weakly.  “I’ve never been afraid of you,” he realizes.  “I’ve wanted to stab you with a stake, but… I don’t know.  You’ve always been a calming presence for some reason.”

“Well, it was one of my jobs back in the day,” Gabriel says with a shrug.  He grins to himself, chuckling at his own private inside joke.  “You know.  ‘Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found favor with the Lord,’ and all that mumbo jumbo.”

“You really said that?” Sam blurts, surprised.  The fact that the Gabriel in the Bible is an accurate representation of the one in front of him, the one he just had sex with, makes him feel a little queasier.

“Pfft, no,” Gabriel scoffs, rolling onto his back and folding his hands behind his head.  “Who talks like that?  I don’t know why everyone gets all worked about that story, anyway.  Mary was 14.  I could have told her a unicorn asked me to the deliver the message and she would have believed me.  The real miracle was getting that Joseph guy to marry his knocked up teen bride.  I sat with him for an hour while he just had his little conniption fit.”

Sam hears the laughter first before he realizes he’s the one laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Gabriel says, but he’s grinning and Sam keeps chuckling, feeling weightless with happiness and contentment that he hasn’t felt in a while.  “Meanwhile, Michael gets to go sword fighting with all the saints.  And then he has the balls to come home all, ‘ _Gabriel, fighting’s hard_.’”

“That just… didn’t happen,” Sam says, smiling and rubbing the side of his face.

“Oh, but it did,” Gabriel sighs dramatically.  “It’s just that Gabriel the Archangel sounds a heck of a lot better than Gabriel the Heavenly Marriage Counselor.”

“The Bible definitely does not capture your unique personality.”

“Reality is rarely as magnificent as the stories people tell,” Gabriel admits.  He pauses for a moment before rather cryptically adding, “The story and what it means is the important part.”  He turns knowing eyes to Sam and Sam frowns, not seeing his point.

“You know,” Gabriel continues, waving a dismissive hand.  “People see the good.  The full picture, if you will.  It doesn’t matter what I said or how I said it.  It just matters that Mary wanted to do her part to change the world.  And Joseph was willing to be there for her.”

“I guess,” Sam agrees cautiously.

“And in the same way,” Gabriel says, more meaningfully, staring into Sam’s very core with his piercing gaze.  “People don’t always see your struggles and mistakes the same way you do.  They just see someone trying their hardest to do the right thing and eventually saving the world.  As long as they have the happy ending, they don’t care about much else.”

Sam’s throat closes as he realizes what Gabriel is talking about, what he’s always somehow talking about.  It’s what he’s been trying to tell him for so long, even through killing his brother and trapping them in alternate realities.  When Sam feels brave enough to look at him, half expecting to see some abstract beam of light lying beside him instead of the warm body he logically knows is there, he can see the message written across the angel’s face.  He wants Sam to see all the things that were out of his control.  He doesn’t want Sam to think anything is his fault.

“You got to the happy ending, Sam.  You definitely took the long route, but you got there,” Gabriel tells him quietly, suddenly serious and thoughtful.  He smiles at Sam in a way that makes him seem ageless, and Sam’s breath catches at the eons of memory and knowledge he can see reflected in the angel’s impossibly golden eyes.  “And when people read your story years from now, you’ll be the hero.”

Before Sam can respond, Gabriel is pushing himself up and over Sam to press their lips together.  Sam is the one to deepen it, burying his fingers in Gabriel’s hair and pulling him closer.  He resents his recovery time for not being faster because all he wants to do is pull the angel under him and feel him everywhere again, getting lost in the world they seem to be able to create together, the one where they’re both blameless or maybe just equally to blame.  He wants the comfort of that escape, but is content to grasp at the edges of it through their kiss.  Gabriel moves closer, climbing fully into his lap, and Sam tries to touch him everywhere.  There’s no way he deserves the amount of acceptance and forgiveness Gabriel is so willingly offering him, but he’s just so desperate for it.  Before he even gets halfway through that thought, however, the angel is pulling away with a frustrated moan.

“Stop feeling guilty,” Gabriel groans, resting his forehead against Sam’s and closing his eyes.  “I barely have to read your mind, kiddo.  You are radiating self-hate.”

Sam kisses him again instead of responding, and this time tries to let his thoughts be ones of contentment and completeness and _Gabriel Gabriel Gabriel_.  When they part again, the angel doesn’t speak and Sam finds himself panting.  When he closes his eyes, he feels warm and light.

“I should get out of here before Dean comes back and accuses you of sleeping with the enemy,” Gabriel says a little reluctantly, sitting back on Sam’s legs.  Sam looks up at the tone, hopeful, and speaks before he can stop himself.

“Stay,” he says, uncertainly, a question that is almost a demand.  The Archangel normally flies off before Dean can get home and Sam likes to pretend that it doesn’t bother him, that he’s not addicted all over again.  But he thinks he’d give anything to wake up to the sight of Gabriel sitting up next to him, watching TV, and eating a chocolate bar.  That could make it okay.  It would be domestic.  Normal.  Real.  Maybe needing Gabriel isn’t so bad.

Gabriel studies him for a terrifying moment before shrugging.

“It’s your funeral, kid,” he says, but he seems almost giddy as he hops back down next to him.  “Actually, it’ll probably be Dean’s.  This would definitely be enough to give him a heart attack.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam says, even though he is very sure he’s wrong.  He can deal with Dean’s reaction, he thinks, feeling a distinct certainty that he never felt with Ruby or Madison, maybe not even with Jess.  This isn’t the same as his past addictions.  It’s not some weird chemical reaction in his brain or some desperate sort of coping mechanism.  He has nothing to explain, no disappointed looks to dodge.  This isn’t the first step in the cycle.  It’s his first step out.

He hasn’t fully convinced himself yet, and maybe he won’t for a while, but it’s a start, and it’s better than nothing.


End file.
